The Shadow Crosser (The Storm Runner 3) - Page 33

Oh man, I knew that expression. It meant We moved it up and you aren’t going to like the reason why.

“Zane can get cleaned up here,” Hurakan said.

The air spirit started to argue until my dad twitched an eyebrow (a tiny little twitch!), which pretty much sent her into hyper adiós mode. Where could I learn to do that trick?

After she left, Hurakan turned to me. “We need to talk.”

That was the understatement of the century. “Yeah, I have tons of questions…. But shouldn’t we do it on the way to the ceremony?” I felt kind of responsible for all the godborns I had found, like maybe I should be there to cheer them on or something.

“I have something to show you first,” he said. “And not until you clean up. You really do smell.”

Whatever. Outside my tree house bedroom was a little sitting room. And I mean little, with a small desk and chair, and that was about it. No TV, no mini fridge…I guess godborns didn’t have the luxury of lounging around.

The door in the sitting room led to a narrow hall with two other bedrooms, and an exit to the outside. Ugh! Housemates. I was kind of hoping I’d have my own pad. There was one bathroom, which I could barely squeeze into without hitting my head against the ceiling. I took a quick shower under a warm waterfall that sprang out of a wood-paneled wall and chirped like a million birds.

Back in my bedroom, the dinky dresser had only two drawers. One was labeled PAJAMAS, and the other CLOTHING. I opened the pajama drawer to find a pair of gray sweatpants and a matching T-shirt that read SHIHOM. In addition to some new underwear and socks, the clothing drawer offered three pairs of black drawstring pants, a pair of basketball shorts, and five black tees with SHIHOM on the front in white block letters. Did we really need so many reminders of where we were? There was also a black baseball cap that read HURAKAN. Seriously? We had to wear parent-branded stuff? No gracias.

I threw on a tee and the shorts. At the foot of my bed was a pair of black tennis shoes. I had to give credit to whoever had ordered all this stuff, because the right shoe was smaller than the left, to accommodate my different-size feet.

I met my dad in the sitting room. He was pacing around the cramped space like a restless jaguar. And I should know—I’ve seen him in that form.

Sometimes I forgot he was a god. And sometimes I forgot he was my dad. The whole thing was pretty confusing, but in this moment, I thought he looked like both.

“How did Zotz and Ixkik’ track us down?” I asked again.

He turned, kind of startled, and said, “Your journey should have been top secret. No one knew you were traveling a day early.” He rubbed his chin. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

We walked down the hall to the exit, a screen door that opened to an outdoor platform. We were high up in a ceiba tree that had been strung with tiny lights. They flickered green and blue, casting a soft glow on the leaves. An intricate network of suspension bridges and ladders connected us to dozens of other shimmering tree houses. I noticed that some of the houses had full wraparound porches and floor-to-ceiling windows. Figures I would get the low-rent version. But where was everyone? The place was silent except for branches rustling, birds chirping, insects buzzing, and monkeys lip-smacking.

We descended a series of ladders and crossed a few bridges until we came to the edge of a stone arena. It was an obstacle course complete with flags, cones, wrestling mats, horizontal step equipment, and punching bags (painted with faces that looked a lot like Zotz, Jordan, and Bird). Stacked on an iron table were all kinds of weapons: spears, daggers, dart guns, throwing stars, and other stuff I couldn’t even identify.

“This is all Hondo’s design,” Hurakan said as we looked around.

So that’s what Hondo had been doing while I was away. Who knew? I felt a surge of pride. “It’s awesome!”

“The godborns will do their training drills here,” my dad went on as we made our way around to the other side.

The words sank in slowly. Training drills. All I heard in my mind was war games.

“This is what you wanted to show me?” I clutched Fuego, wondering why all the mystery. “It’s cool, but…”

Hurakan stopped at a rugged stone wall at least fifty feet high. Six thick ropes hung from the top, and he tugged one of them.

“What I have to show you is at the top. Maybe it will answer some questions. Or maybe it will only create more.” He gestured to some steep zigzagging stairs. “We can take the steps, or…”

Our eyes met. My dad was the only sobrenatural I could communicate with telepathically when we weren’t touching. Maybe it had something to do with our blood tie. The words formed in my mind and flew outward before I could stop them. Is that a challenge?

I blame my boldness on the near-death adrenaline still churning inside me.

I would never challenge a godborn, especially after what you’ve just been through.

My bones did feel like they had been pounded with a sledgehammer. Hurakan inched closer, igniting a flame on his right palm. I started to back up, but he closed the distance and placed the fire on my shoulder. The pain relief was instant.

Okay, I’ll climb the rope, I said. On one condition.

Gods don’t do conditions.

I vanished Fuego. I wouldn’t want to

Tags: J.C. Cervantes, Jennifer Cervantes The Storm Runner Fantasy
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